Winter Swans The clouds had given their all - two days of rain and then a break in which we walked, the waterlogged earth gulping for breath at our feet as we skirted the lake, silent and apart, until the swans came and stopped us with a show of tipping in unison. As if rolling weights down their bodies to their heads they halved themselves in the dark water, icebergs of white feather, paused before returning again like boats righting in rough weather. 'They mate for life' you said as they left, porcelain over the stilling water. I didn't reply but as we moved on through the afternoon light, slow-stepping in the lake's shingle and sand, I noticed our hands, that had, somehow, swum the distance between us and folded, one over the other, like a pair of wings settling after flight.